Provocation
by Wesz
Summary: Stiles is absolutely sure he freaking hates Derek Hale. He hates that little smug look of him, he hates that leather jacket and he hates the way he always tries to provoke him. Until Stiles suddenly takes the upper hand.
1. Chapter 1

**WARNING:** Season 4 spoilers and adult content.

**Author's Note: **I've never written anything like that before. I've never written Sterek. I've never written sex. Do let me know what you think.

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**PROVOCATION**

_Chapter one_

Stiles never really knew where they had come from; those mixed feelings. When you would try to put a thread through the eye of a needle; that anger, that frustration that makes you want to cry and throw everything in your reach across the room. Or when you were on the swing set with your childhood best friend and he was going higher than you were, even though you were kicking your legs out and back at the exact right moments. That feeling you get when you start talking about something and it's a long story and the person you're interacting with cuts in at a completely irrelevant part of the story and starts talking about himself. That rage that you don't understand, or know you aren't supposed to feel; that drives you insane, but secretly you know you're a victim to, because it might be all too exciting to feel it anyway.

Those were the feelings that Stiles was trying so vigorously to supress whenever he would be in the same room as Derek Hale. Whenever that werewolf would quote himself as "the alpha", as if he was better than anyone else, better than Scott, who Stiles loved…in a bro-way, obviously. The "alpha" Stiles had to save from drowning when he ended up paralyzed in the swimming pool at school. He should've let him be at the bottom of those wet tiles, but he had still saved him, only to get a snarky remark afterwards about him not doing a good job. Stiles should've just let Derek go and let himself be killed by the Kanima. That would definitely have been a better solution.

But he hadn't, which only made the situation even worse. Why? Because somehow, no matter how much he wanted to punch that smug look off the guy's face, it still showed he cared about the older male. God, even now, looking at him while he stood there at his bedroom window – which had only been open an inch, thank you very much – with his hands jammed down the pockets of that God-forsaken leather jacket, Stiles' insides churned.

Yes, Stiles Stilinski was so sure he hated Derek Hale that it was becoming difficult to convince himself otherwise. Every time Derek proved to be in need, which was a hell of a lot of times (seriously, the guy had a thing for danger), Stiles had ended up saving him. Even when he had been taken over by the Nogitsune, he hadn't come after Derek. Well, maybe he had messed with him with the chess board, and with the weird flies, but still, that had only nearly killed Chris Argent, Allison father, and not Derek. So, technically he hadn't _really _done any harm to Derek. Admirably so, because Stiles was sure he would be the first one on his list and definitely not Scott, who he had hurt.

"Kate's back," the wolf spoke, not sounding really surprised. Which was weird because even Stiles was shocked for a moment, and hey, Kate Argent hadn't killed _his _whole family.

"So?" Stiles fired back, trying to be indifferent about it, "Shouldn't you be at Scott's right now? To tell him that?"

The werewolf scoffed, which irritated Stiles even more, because who was he to insult his profound sarcastic comment?

"Scott's a leader. You know how to figure things out. That's what I need right now," Derek explained briefly, still not bothering to look at Stiles as he kept staring out of the window. If Stiles hadn't known better he would've been alarmed by Derek's prepared-for-everything attitude, but he was sure the guy was just trying to look dramatic.

"Ah, so you're finally admitting that you need me, huh?" He didn't know why he asked that question, maybe he just wanted to sound snarky or maybe he needed the confirmation – as a matter of fact, no. God, no, he didn't need a compliment from Derek Hale. Never would he ever need the approval of a guy so shallow and hard to pierce the shell of as Derek. Never. No. Absolutely not.

"I thought my uncle had killed her. How can she be back?" Derek ignored Stiles' attempt at arrogance. "Did Lydia revive her, just like she did with him?"

It was then when Stiles realized how serious this situation was. Kate Argent was back. The woman who had set a house on fire and had executed almost a whole family. The woman who had a natural thirst for werewolf blood. "I don't know," Stiles shrugged, scrunching his face, "but Lydia doesn't have anything to do with it."

"How do you know?"

Because I do, you asshole. "I just do, okay? Accept that I don't have to explain everything, especially not feelings."

Yet again, Derek scoffed and Stiles narrowed his eyes at him. There was no way in hell Derek knew about his feelings. A werewolf might have increased senses of smell and hearing, but he wasn't a mind reader.

"Then how is she here?" Derek asked.

"No idea," Stiles shrugged, "maybe she traded her soul to the devil."

"The devil doesn't exist."

"Well I still wouldn't exclude the theory."

Stiles scratched the back of his head, rolling his eyes at Derek's presence. Why was he still here when Stiles had made it so obvious that he didn't know anything about this subject? Come to think of it, how did Derek know she was still alive, anyway? Had she granted him a visit and attempted to kill him? God, that would be too fucking much. And even though Stiles could've been happily revelling in that thought without ever being sure, he asked: "How do you know she's here?"

"I saw her," Derek grumbled, "at first I thought I was dreaming, especially when her eyes turned a bright green and her face changed into that of an animal. But then I remembered what you said about dreaming and I still had five fingers on each hand, so."

Stiles' eyes widened for a second, but he quickly recovered. Derek had remembered their conversation? "What kind of animal? A werewolf?" A shiver shot through his spine when he debated the option. Kate Argent a werewolf? Well, that would be a terrible combination.

"More like a jaguar," Derek answered casually.

"Are you shitting me? A jaguar?" Stiles gaped. "Well of course!" he exclaimed as he threw his arms in the air. "We have werewolves, kanimas, banshees, werefoxes, why not add a jaguar to the list? When is this carnival of predator representation gonna stop?! When we have were-lions on our asses?"

Stiles watched as Derek shook his head. "Don't be so dramatic," he replied, "there are no such things as were-lions."

"But there _are _jaguars?!"

Derek finally decided to look at Stiles, only to shoot him a weird glance. "Haven't you read that in the Argent's bestiary?"

"Well, I'm sorry if Latin isn't my first language," Stiles snarled.

In a second, Derek was standing right in front of him, his facial expression speaking tones of annoyance as he stared down at him. Stiles had winced and was still cursing himself for it as he glared back into those intriguing eyes. He didn't need werewolf senses to hear Derek's slightly heavy breathing come through his nose; a sign of anger. A nerve in Stiles broke and he jumped up from his place on the bed, returning the favour by also infiltrating Derek's personal space, only to now not only hear his breathing, but also feel it on his upper lip.

"Think, Stiles," Derek hissed in a demanding way. "How could she be here?"

Stiles throat ran dry and he tried to swallow around it, but his voice still cracked when he answered the wolf. "I…How did she die again?" He had seen so many people get killed in the past year that he was sure it should've caused him a severe case of PTSD.

"Peter slit her throat," Derek reminded him…and was that remorse Stiles could hear in his voice?

Stiles nodded slowly, licking his lips as he still tried to regain some of the moisture in his mouth. The gears in his mind started to turn and twist as he tried to figure out how Kate could possibly be alive, because hey, someone doesn't usually survive when a claw rips their neck apart. But then he noticed how dominating Derek was being in this entire situation and he hesitated if he should help him. If Derek wanted him to help, shouldn't he just ask nicely, instead of driving Stiles into a corner and scaring him into it?

"Aren't there other ways of turning people, not just by the bite? And don't they become a representation of something they are inside? Maybe when Peter slit Kate's throat he didn't kill her, but turned her," Stiles heard himself speak, yet again proving to himself that, no matter how much he was sure he hated Derek Hale, he would still help him.

Derek's eyebrows shot up, but not in a surprised way. It was more like he was debating Stiles' option. From being so close to him, Stiles could even see how the muscles in the guy's jaw clenched together. Derek probably needed all his energy to think about stuff and it took almost all of Stiles' willpower not to laugh at that thought. Yet, it made him feel stronger, cockier, even, when he realized he could have an advantage over Derek. A thing he was better at than a werewolf, even if that was something as simple as thinking.

But hey, maybe Derek was actually able to read minds after all, because the guy aggressively bounced forward, his strong jawline stopping only half an inch away from Stiles face for only a split second. Naturally, Stiles winced, _again_, which annoyed him.

"What? You wanted an answer and I gave it to you and now you can't handle me being smarter than you?" Stiles smirked. "Are you upset that you needed me and I was actually relevant?"

Derek inhaled sharply and for a second there Stiles thought he was going to be turned himself, noticing a glimpse of the wolf's fangs, but instead the male breathed out heavily. The warm air against his face made Stiles shiver, but he felt proud of himself for still managing to keep Derek's infiltrating look. "Keep that thought."

And there was it, that little smug look with one of the corners of his mouth crooked up that Stiles hated so damn much. That expression that downgraded him, but somehow had a sense of pride in it that somehow felt weird and, God, Stiles just wanted to palm Derek's face right there. Facepalm, that was. Just wanted to crash the inside of his hands onto those eyes, nose and mouth and rub it off; the smugness, that was.

And Stiles did. He gasped as he saw the tips of his long fingers dig into the face that was Derek Hale's, totally surprised by his own action. In confusion, but also admiration for his daring act, he debated to add his fingernails into the game and maybe scratch the hell out of the werewolf's face. But before he knew it, he felt a wet sensation against the palm of his right hand and he drew back in a reflex. Yet another tingle went through his body and he wanted to kick himself for it but he also wanted to palm Derek's face again, but now only his mouth, only to maybe feel those rough lips and soft tongue against the skin he used to jerk himself off with.

And, oh, God.

He wanted to fuck that smirk right off. Maybe it was jealousy of Derek always seeming to be able to keep his composure or maybe Stiles seriously fucking hated him or maybe he wanted to prove himself.

But, Jesus Christ, he wanted to punch his fist into Derek's face and force him to deal with it. Stiles wanted to rub his knuckles against the stubble on Derek's cheek and run the edges of his nails against his bottom lip and wanted the wolf to answer to him and open his mouth, lick the tip of his aggressive fingers that wanted to hurt him so bad.

But Stiles didn't. When he heard his own thoughts, _really _heard them, he needed to come down from the thrill and process what they were telling him. They were confusing and made his knees feel weak, so he needed all his energy to remain stable in front of Derek, especially when the guy's smirk grew wider and Stiles felt himself twitch in his sweatpants.

Werewolf senses…shit…could Derek feel…? No, he wasn't _against_ him. But he could hear heartbeats, right? And…oh, God…no. No, he wouldn't be able to smell his…?

"If you rub your hands in my face like that again, my response won't be as friendly," Derek interrupted Stiles' theories.

Stiles gaped at him before he regained his composure. Well, a part of it, because his complying 'okay' still came out stuttering and uncertain.

And when he blinked, Derek had gone as suddenly as he had appeared.

The next morning at school, Stiles obviously immediately told Scott about Kate's return – as a jaguar.

"A jaguar? Dude, that sounds way cooler than a wolf," Scott sounded impressed as they walked through the hallway.

Stiles grumbled and rolled his eyes. "Tell me when you're done fangirling over it so that we can discuss the female murderer with crazy hunting skills that now apparently has fangs and fur."

"What else do you think she can do?" Scott wondered, his jaw still slightly dropped.

"What? You don't think what I just summed up is already enough?" Stiles fired back sarcastically, "Do you want her to sound invincible?"

"We should totally look it up somewhere," his friend continued, noticing Stiles' annoyed look and quickly adding, "you know, so that we know what we're up against."

Stiles groaned. "Fine. I'll Google it when I get home."

And so he did, after finishing tons of homework Coach had given to them. Dusk had fallen around Beacon Hills and the streetlights blinked on to offer some guidance in the darkness. Stiles couldn't be bothered to get up from behind his laptop and put on his own light, so just remained seated in front of his screen. His index finger ached from scrolling through several internet pages, all without success. He had scoffed a couple of times upon reading that were-jaguars were described as toothless creatures. Clearly, none of those people had actually met one. Not that Stiles had, technically, but even he knew more. He squinted at the tiny letters, lips absentmindedly mouthing the words he was reading. This was useless; there was absolutely nothing about powers or characteristics. His rubbed his left temple as his cheek rested in the palm of his hand.

"Found anything yet?" a whisper sounded in his right ear.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Stiles jumped up, hitting his knee against the bottom of his desk table in the process. He exclaimed an irritated whine while his heart skipped a couple of beats. After he had voiced some more curse words he turned around and was faced with the significant smirk on Derek's face. "Yeah? You enjoyed scaring the fucking crap out of me? You did, didn't you? Well, I'm sorry that I didn't die of a heart attack because that guilt trip would've served you just right."

Instead of replying, Derek moved past Stiles and scanned the internet page on his laptop. For a second Stiles debated giving him a "gentle" nudge, because his stance didn't seem very stable, but his attention was dragged away when he remembered something else.

"And here I thought you had too much dignity to watch something as shallow as porn," Derek snorted.

"I'm a teenager, Derek. My hormones are more like whoremones and I don't know if you've noticed but my sex life has its limits at the moment," Stiles muttered, "now shoo."

He heard the chuckle rumble in the back of Derek's throat and Stiles gritted his teeth, moving his laptop screen downwards, just then did he realize that he was now in an almost dark room with a guy he didn't really know how he felt about.

Derek moved up again and took a step closer to Stiles, who would have taken a step of his own backwards if his heels weren't already against the drawers of his desk. "What did Scott say about it?"

"What? You're not gonna pay _him_ a nightly visit?" the boy countered. Derek narrowed his eyes at him and remained silent, infiltrating Stiles with that dangerous look of his. "He was mainly surprised."

"Who has the bestiary?"

Derek's conversational skills were horrible, that was for sure. "I don't know."

"Well, what do you know?"

"I know I don't like you, and hey, that's something," Stiles grinned, proud of his witty answer.

Derek smirked, his eyes lighting up a bright blue as he examined Stiles from head to toe. Stiles grew suspicious and he instantly became aware of his own body. Was something weird? Was he showing anything? Was he trembling? Dammit, he should definitely ask Scott what werewolves could see with their pathetic x-ray scans.

The silence made Stiles nervous and he felt a layer of moistness form on the insides of his hands, yet he stayed strong and kept glaring up at Derek. You weren't allowed to show your fear to animals, so he wasn't going to. The air around him seemed to thicken and heat up, because Stiles' lips dried up. He licked them wet again and clenched his fists. Suddenly, he was aware of all his senses and started to feel as if he was tied up. All of his muscles tingled and were causing random spasms and God, how great would it be if he would suddenly kick Derek in the shin or something.

Derek took in a deep breath and Stiles held his as if the wolf could suck the oxygen right out of his lungs. For a second, Stiles could've sworn that he had seen a magnetic field between them that caused them to synchronize their movements.

"I don't think you don't like me," Derek broke the quietness between them, "but I also don't think you do." He turned his head a little without breaking eye-contact with Stiles. "What's that about?"

Stiles swallowed. He felt his blood boiling up to his head and his cheeks started to burn. Derek had noticed his confusion, dammit. And even worse, he couldn't think of something snarky to throw back at him. Actually, he couldn't think of anything. Words. He needed words; words to form a sentence, preferably a sarcastic one. Yes. Yes, that would be great. But instead he only felt his ears getting hotter.

The whole situation, the tension, it was suffocating Stiles, but he wasn't sure if that was a bad thing. And maybe it was because of his earlier porn searching or because of the universe just _loved _to mess with him, but he started to feel aroused. Something about this whole thing was turning him on. He felt his boxer briefs expand to give him more space, but the crotch of his jeans wasn't going to co-operate quite so much. Unfortunately, Stiles' dick definitely wasn't going to stop swelling, so it just remained in an uncomfortable downward position that he was sure was showing horribly. Thanking himself for his earlier laziness of not wanting to turn his bedroom lights on, Stiles didn't dare to move.

But Derek did. He moved in a little and Stiles wanted to squeak because he was sure he could feel the fabric of Derek's pants against his own. Still hypnotized by the blueness of the man's eyes, he kept their gaze as his own eyes turned stone-like. "Tell me, Stiles," Derek now whispered in a deep voice, "What's that about?"

Stiles' mouth formed into all sorts of shapes, but still no words came out. He was absolutely sure Derek knew what was going on and was just messing with him, which made Stiles feel even more awkward. Then again, who the fuck did Derek think he was? Worsening his already "stiff" situation? The guy should back off and leave him the hell alone.

"What do you want, Stiles?"

I wanna punch you in the stomach, ram my knee into your face when you bend over, and when you're on the ground I want to rip apart that wife beater from under your leather jacket and jerk off on those steel abs, just to make you feel as small as you always make me feel.

Dammit, you screwed up.

Derek's jawline tightened and, God. For God's sake, he smirked. Argh, this was ridiculous! He shouldn't smirk right now, he should be intimidated and leave. "Whatever you want to do, Stiles, do it," Derek edged him. "Come on." The wolf's smug look deepened. "Overrule me."

Something snapped inside of Stiles. He could feel the elastic band that was his restraint breaking and he put all of the strength he had into one single, assured push against Derek's upper body. The force of it caused him to stumble and fall flat onto his back, the hardwood floors slamming the air from his chest.

In the meantime Stiles had unbuckled his belt and opened his fly. His mind was clouded with a dark desire and if he hadn't known better, he would've thought he was still taken over by the Nogitsune. He let himself fall forward onto his knees, not caring that they would probably be blue the next morning. His cock had finally been freed from the jail that was his jeans and was now upwardly throbbing against the cotton of his briefs. He slid his hand across the head of it once and shivered at the sensations that ran up his spine. All the while, Derek kept staring into his eyes and Stiles didn't feel the need to look away either. His long fingers found the hem of Derek's shirt and moved it up to his neck, exposing the muscles on the guy's stomach. Stiles watched them clenching and relaxing with every breath Derek took and he grunted at the sight of it.

Stiles slipped his hand into his boxers and fisted his hard-on. A moan escaped his lips when he did so and whipped it out. He was showing his dick to Derek Hale. The concept should've been humiliating to Stiles, because, hey, it wasn't like he had ever seen Derek's, but yet he felt content, powerful…strong. Slowly, Stiles started jerking himself, hovering over the werewolf's body while he had one of Derek's spread legs caught between his knees.

Derek kept his mouth shut and was obviously supressing a force he didn't want to admit to. Stiles didn't know whether it was anger or shame or maybe Derek was even horny, but he didn't really care. Right now, his own pleasure was the only thing that was important, so he picked up his pace, fisting his dick a little faster and adding a twist to the movement of his wrist.

A thick drop of precum formed on the tip of his cut cock. Stiles didn't have to look to know it was there. He felt the hot liquid squeezing itself out, and Stiles found only gravity was to blame – not him, as it started to slip off of his dick. The stickiness of it made the drop form into a string, heading for Derek's abs. Stiles mouth fell open as he watched, now more furiously jerking on his cock. He sucked in a breath and exclaimed a moan when he saw his precum fall onto Derek's abdomen, right next to his navel. The tanned skin and soft, subtle dark hairs were still visible through the clearness of the sticky fluid.

Stiles felt himself getting hotter and hotter, slowly reaching the point of no return, climbing the peak of his climax. He fumbled his balls, which dragged up closer to his body as they prepared for the eruption. The biceps in Stiles' jerking arm became more visible with every move and the rate of his moans and gasps increased. His cock felt like it was on fire and fuck…fuck, he was going to cum on Derek's ripped body. He was going to completely cover him.

A last moan left the deepness of Stiles' throat before he felt the pressure in his abdomen becoming too much. His toes curled in his shoes when his whole body started jerking. He kept wanking his cock and watched the first rope of cum explode from his slit, which landed across Derek's upper body, covering the guy's hard nipple. Stiles panted as his teen juices left his balls, shooting onto Derek's pectoral muscles, his stomach, covering his sides, slipping into the clefts of his abs.

After he had squeezed out the last drops, Stiles fell to the side and welcomed the coldness of the floor against his bare hips. He took a moment to catch his breath, close his eyes, not being able to – not wanting to – speak.

And when he did, all that came out was a soft 'wow', whispered into the dark, empty shadow of where Derek had been.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **This really wasn't supposed to get another chapter, but your reviews really motivated me and then inspiration struck and...yeah.

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_Chapter two_

In a daze, Stiles was left on his own hardwood floor. As expected, his knees had already started to redden from his enthusiastic fall to the ground and…oh, God. Had he just…really? Fuck, he had jerked himself on Derek Hale, for all of him to see.

And, while the whole scene had felt as something he had had the upper hand in, he now felt embarrassed. Derek had seen his…junk…and, not that he was particularly insecure about his stuff, but still, a certain boundary was overcome when someone else would actually see it in all its glory. It wasn't like he had needed a compliment, especially not from Derek. That would've just made him more aware of what had been going on.

Seriously though, Derek had a legit body, Stiles had to give him that. He wouldn't ever tell him that, obviously, but still, he did.

Ha, and Stiles had…yeah…onto _that. _Was it wrong that he still found it sounded hot? Derek had left pretty quickly and suddenly and maybe Stiles should send him a text to apologize or anything. Then again, Derek had never apologized for anything he had done either. A text would be a nice gesture, though. Maybe after he had gotten up and pulled up his pants and tugged away his…y'know. Yes, maybe by then.

Or, maybe not. It's not like he and Derek texted one another on a regular basis. Hell, Stiles would only text the wolf when he would need him to fight some other mystical creature. Not for, like, fun times or small talk, even.

After Stiles was dressed again, he lay down on his bed. From under him, the patterns of stars and galaxies were visible on the covers. His phone buzzed against his desk and he quickly got up to get it, shaking his head at the screen before he tapped on it and then put the device down on his nightstand. A minute later, his fingers were tapping rhythmically on either sides of him, while he scrunched his eyebrows up at the ceiling. So, what now? Did he like Derek? He had always been so sure he didn't. But, now, after this…maybe he did? How was one supposed to act, anyway? Just go about their regular daily life and act like nothing had happened? Derek would probably do that. Then again, why would he even _debate_ remembering that Stiles had jerked off onto him? That would just be weird. And why would Stiles care? It wasn't like he liked Derek. Obviously.

A good night's sleep was what Stiles thought would do him well and he had convinced himself that he would feel less confused in the morning. But of course, he didn't. Tensing the muscles in his morning wood instantly brought his memory back to the evening before and got him wondering again. While still waking up, he asked himself how Derek was experiencing this 'morning after'. During his shower, Stiles got into a heated discussion with himself about if Derek had or had not enjoyed what had happened. At breakfast, he prayed that his dad hadn't heard anything suspicious last night. While driving on the way to school, he debated if he maybe should've sent Derek a text after all. And even though he should've paid attention in class, he caught himself revisiting the vivid image of Derek's upper body; his heaving muscles. Clearly, Scott had noticed his friend's absence of mind, but had stopped his questioning after being snarled at. Stiles wanted to be left alone.

But not entirely. Maybe, just maybe, there was a slight, even the most minimalistic of chances that he was kind of hoping on another visit by Derek that evening.

Maybe.

After dinner, Stiles had run out of patience. There had been no sign of Derek all day and even though their whole thing about last night hadn't _really_ been consensual, Derek should still have the decency to text him. Okay, maybe that argument wasn't entirely right, but Stiles really couldn't remember Derek pushing him away or anything, so…

Yes, okay, alright, it's pretty rude to shoot your cum onto someone…but it's…you know, it's sex…everyone does it…

Stiles rubbed his face. God, he literally was the worst at making excuses for himself.

_Scared you off, didn't I?_ Stiles typed into his message before hitting "send" and selecting Derek's contact number.

Satisfied with himself and with some new profound tolerance, Stiles sat back into the chair behind his desk. His fingers folded into each other behind his head, sure that his phone would buzz in a minute or so.

Or maybe after two minutes.

Three wouldn't be weird either.

Four would've been quick.

Five is perfectly normal.

Six isn't a big deal.

Seven's a lucky number. His phone would ring any second now, definitely.

…Eight's getting a bit…eh.

Okay, nine minutes is just long.

Ten's the limit. After ten minutes he wouldn't come across as desperate anymore.

_So are you gonna pay me a nightly visit again? I just want to know in advance, because it'll save me a heart attack, y'know._

There. There was enough in that message for Derek to respond to. He would reply. Yup, Stiles was sure Derek was typing up a message right now.

Maybe it was just a really long message.

Or maybe Derek's thumbs weren't that quick at typing.

The autocorrect on his phone could totally be blocking him.

He was probably deciding what would sound more arrogant.

Or he could've been busy and hadn't heard his phone.

_Hmm?_

Maybe Derek had lost his phone.

Or it had been stolen, even. It could be possible. Surely.

Stiles' message could've been too weird. Derek probably didn't know how to respond. Maybe he should've sent something more casual, like…how are you? Everyone can answer that question.

_Anyway, what's up? How are you?_

A smirk spread across Stiles' face when his phone bleeped a minute later. He grabbed it from his desk and opened the message, excited.

_Good_. – It read.

A muscle in the corner of Stiles' left eye twitched and he muttered: "Well, then why didn't you reply to my earlier messages?" he read out loud as he typed.

He sighed, putting his phone back after hitting 'send' again. This was ridiculous; he had been sitting in his room texting Derek for over ten minutes, and it had earned him nothing but a one-word response. In an attempt to distract himself, he opened his laptop and started surfing the internet for a while.

Fifteen minutes later, his phone still hadn't shown any new messages and Stiles had given up. Maybe Derek had now left his phone in some corner of the wolf den he called his loft. Stiles just needed his theory to be confirmed and in order to do so he just needed to send one last text. The last one, definitely.

_What are you up to?_

Convinced that Derek wouldn't send anything back, Stiles got back to his usual surfing on the web. Ironically, a minute later, his phone did buzz.

_Nothing much._

Stiles puffed out an annoyed breath. Apparently Derek did have his phone on him; he just didn't want to talk to him. On the other hand, if he really didn't want to talk to Stiles, he wouldn't have bothered sending something back anyway. Maybe he just wasn't up for a difficult talk…or something like that? Ugh, even over the phone Derek managed to irritate him. That was it. No more texting. He was done. What had happened yesterday was now in the past and he was going to be an adult about it and let it go.

After one last attempt. Maybe he could trigger Derek.

_Okay._

That simple reply showed that he had now tuned out of the conversation as well and that he had probably gotten bored, which proved that sour wolf right.

_You?_

For fuck's sake, now he did want to talk?

_Surfing._

_I assume on your laptop, like yesterday?_

Well, what else could I mean, you idiot? It's not like Beacon Hills has waves and a beach.

_Yes._

_Okay._

Was Derek now using his own strategy against him? God, he hated that guy.

_Any plans for the night?_

_Not really._

Alright, if Derek was going to continue sending these short responses, Stiles might as well cut it off. No more phone. No more texting. "Bye, asshole," he mumbled under his breath when he diverted his attention back to the screen in front of him.

The rest of the night, Stiles spent as he usually would, except more than occasionally eyeing his phone. Naturally, no more messages came in, except for one from Scott telling him he was going to sleep and that he loved him, but he had always done that, now daily after the Nogitsune adventure, but it still didn't count.

The text did make Stiles smile a little, though, so he replied with something similar, also out of guilt, because he knew Scott probably wouldn't be able to sleep if he didn't. The before-bed-texting thing had become too much of a security blanket for him, which wasn't wrong. The opposite, actually….it was sweet. Kind of pathetic and overly protective, but Stiles knew it came from a good heart, so it was sweet.

Maybe Stiles should send Derek such a text, too, y'know, since it was sweet.

No. No, he wasn't going to be sweet with Derek Hale. No way in hell, no. No. No. No.

_I'm gonna crash. Good night!_

There, that sounded very casual. No sweetness. Nothing sweet about it. Nothing.

_Night._

Sure, Derek's had to be even more casual, Stiles thought as he yanked his shirt over his head and changed his jeans for a comfortable pair of dark blue sweatpants. Tomorrow his obsession over Derek would definitely be gone. He was sure of it. This just had to have been the last part of the aftermath of exposing himself to someone else, nothing more.

Well, that soon proved wrong.

The next morning, up until he was at school, Stiles endured several instances of déjà vu during his regular morning duties. He had had one while getting up, one while he was in the shower, and two more while eating his breakfast and while on the way to school. Yup, Stiles Stilinski was now even surer that the universe just _loved _to mess with him.

"Feeling better, bro?" Scott asked as they strolled down the hallway on the way to their first period. The sympathy clearly sounded through his voice.

"What are you talking about?" Stiles defensively fired back. There was no way Scott knew about his thoughts about Derek.

Scott shrugged innocently, one hand on the strap of his backpack, which he had swung over just one shoulder. "I don't know, you seemed a little off yesterday, so I'm just checking in with ya."

"Just like you do every night."

"So? You can't blame me for wanting to make sure you're okay…" Scott's voice lacked some conviction, as if he was over thinking if he really couldn't be blamed for caring.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "I guess I can't," he sighed, already feeling bad for making it seem like he was taking his best friend for granted. "Look, I'm sorry for being weird yesterday. I promise nothing's wrong and I'm all good again today. No more off-ness."

Scott's grin showed all kinds of relief, and he nodded his head excitedly. "Alright, great!" For a second he hesitated, but then he continued: "So, I think Kira and I are getting really serious…"

Stiles didn't notice how his friend's voice faded into the background as his thoughts pulled away his focus again. Should he let Derek know he's up? That way, if he wanted to talk to Stiles, he wouldn't have to be scared about waking him up. Or was a good morning text a little too much? Stiles could always open with a simple question, maybe even with a small story?

Ugh, but shouldn't he have been over it by now?

Maybe he was in a sort of closure process. Then again, how much closure would someone need after whipping out your junk and wanking off on them? The whole situation had seemed pretty clear at the time, so what was there to clear and close up? Did Stiles want to talk about what had happened? Not particularly, no, but if the option appeared, he probably wouldn't refuse…because, y'know, the only way that that would happen would be if Derek said something about it. It's not like anyone else was going to do that, since they didn't know, and hell, it wasn't like Stiles was going to speak up. Not even about something as easy as texting.

And why was he thinking about this anyway? As said, he didn't actually want to talk about it. He didn't even know if he should apologize, thank, or compliment Derek. All of those seemed inappropriate and wrong.

Seriously though, no more thinking about it. Find a distraction. Okay, ah, first period's about to start, thank God for classes. Okay, he was just going to spend the next forty-five minutes looking at the board in front of him and listening to the teacher. Yes, that sounded like a good plan. He could totally do this.

He couldn't do this. Every word that started with a D was, in Stiles mind, immediately followed with 'erek' and 'ick', which was crazy. Even during his crush on Lydia he wasn't this obsessed. Not that he could remember, at least. Sure, he scribbled her name in his notebook with sappy little hearts around it, but there weren't enough demons in the world to make him do the same with Derek's name.

His hormones were most likely to blame for all this. Yes! Yes, that was it! He was just being a normal, red-blooded teenager. One who had had one of his first sexual experiences and whose hormones had now turned into whoremones. It was totally logical that he would get obsessed over this. I mean, how many people had revisited their past erotic encounters? It's because they had been hot, well, hopefully they had been hot, so surely one wanted to remember them.

A shiver went up his spine when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He quietly fished it out and tried to go unnoticed as he looked at the screen. He rolled his eyes when he saw it was a text from his dad, telling him he was probably working late tonight, so Stiles had to prepare dinner for himself. Yeah, yeah, maybe he had hoped the text had been from Derek, but hey, he _just_ figured out he was obsessed, which was – need I to remind you already? – perfectly normal.

Should he do something with it, though? Stiles wasn't sure. A part of him told himself to give in and go with it, but another part told him to calm the fuck down and let it pass by. He couldn't really foresee any harm in doing either of those options.

But the first option sounded a hell of a lot better. Dammit. Okay, okay, he was going to start a conversation again. Whatever. Nobody cared. No one was going to judge him. There couldn't be any harm in texting. Nope.

_Hi._

_Hey._

_What's going on?_

Stiles chewed on the inside of his cheek nervously, agitated that the teacher wouldn't catch him, but also excited for Derek's texts.

_Just woke up._

_I'm at school._

_Obviously._

Was Derek being sarcastic because he was texting while in class or did he mean it like he should've figured that? Eh.

_Any plans for the day?_

_Not really. Maybe Kate will pay me a visit again._

Stiles pressed his lips together, thinking.

_Anything new with that? Have we figured out any more about her?_

_No._

Seriously, why the short replies? Didn't Derek want to talk to him or something? But then why bother sending something back? Ugh, and didn't Stiles already have this discussion once? Shit.

_Scott won't shut up about Kira. Dude's so hooked._

_Good for him._

Stiles exclaimed a groan, which was a stupid thing to do, since it earned him at least eleven weird looks from his classmates, including from his teacher.

"Sorry," he tried to shrug casually, "just…really hard topic," he lied, indicating to the board with his pen.

God, he was making a fool out of himself and Derek wasn't even in the room. Alright, he was gonna try one more time. For now. It just had to be a real good question.

And then Stiles asked the inevitable. The question he hadn't want to ask, but did want an answer to and now he was about to give in, but he wasn't going to think about that. No. Nuh-uh.

_So do you want to talk about the other night?_

He was distracted from his anxiety when he started to taste blood in his mouth. Great, he had been chewing too vigorously.

_Do you?_

Stiles sighed, this time silently.

_I asked you first._ No way was Stiles going to be the first one to answer that. He wasn't an idiot. 'Sides, he had already deserved some kudos for asking it.

_And now I'm asking you._

_This is a very tiring game._

_Then just answer the question._

It had now become a principle of situation.

_No, because I asked you first!_

_Sigh._

Sigh? Did Derek just send him a 'sigh'? Oh for fuck's sake, he was such a hipster. Anyway, this conversation didn't seem to be going somewhere anytime soon, so it had been a waste of time and energy.

Derek did have a big mouth over text, though, being all secretive and weird and annoying. In real life he had never been this brief. Stiles wondered if the wolf would still be as witty with his answers if he was facing Stiles.

Hey! That was an idea! He should totally go by Derek's loft after school. His dad wouldn't notice, because he wasn't going to be home anyway, so he didn't need to lie or make up any excuses as to where he was. He wasn't sure if Derek was up for a visit, but honestly Stiles didn't care. If anything, he could make up an excuse and lure himself in there under false pretenses.

_Can I come over this afternoon?_

_Can you?_

How much Stiles wished Derek could see the middle finger he was pointing at the screen.

_Fine. May I come over this afternoon?_

_I you want to._

_Well, do you want me to?_

_I don't mind either._

The rest of his classes Stiles had spent totally restless. The heel of his foot kept tapping nervously against the floor and his pen now had bite marks from chewing on it, but fortunately those bite marks were fading from the inside of his cheek now.

"Dude, would you calm down a little? Your trembling leg has me on the verge of going insane," Scott whispered during History, "the whole room is moving with you. Besides you said no more off-ness."

"So what? I'm not allowed to move anymore?" Stiles fired back, knowing he was being unfair, but too scared that Scott would keep questioning him. He couldn't _really _lie to his friend.

Scott pouted a little, offended. "Of course you're allowed to move, man. I'm just saying, you seem…anxious…or something?"

"I'm not. I'm fine, okay? I'm just sick of classes for t'day," Stiles explained, half truthfully.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Scott, I'm sure," Stiles sighed softly.

Scott moved his hand and laid it upon Stiles' knee. "Then please stop shaking?" It almost sounded pleading. "You're freaking me out." He squeezed once.

"Alright." Stiles surrendered, "I'm sorry…but stop using your puppy eyes on me. Maybe Kira likes it, but it's tacky."

The slightest blush formed on Scott's cheeks while he looked away and scraped his throat. Stiles chuckled inaudibly and shook his head.

He just had to sit through this last period. Then he would be at Derek's loft and he would be reminded of all the things he hated about him and then the obsession would be gone and, maybe with luck, he would even regret the other night.

Okay, regret wasn't a thing you were supposed to feel after you had been 'physical' with someone, but it was the only way Stiles knew how to deal with this. Turning a good experience into a bad one wasn't particularly an option he had been most fond of, but hey, measures had to be taken. He had to get over this, not only because it was the healthy thing to do, but also because this was Derek Hale and there was no way in hell Stiles would give him the satisfaction of him _wanting_ him, or even worse, _feeling _something for him.

When the bell rang to announce the end of class, Stiles naturally was the first one to get up. His books had already been jammed into his bag and his car keys in hand.

"Dude, you wanna-?"

"Not today, Scott, gotta go. Talk to you tomorrow, 'right? Later!" Stiles cut his best friend off, hurrying out of the school.

He roared the engine of his jeep to life and quickly took off, trying not to blame himself for his own eagerness. It just needed to be out of his system, Stiles kept trying to convince himself. He needed to see Derek, remember that he found him absolutely repulsive and full of shit – especially with his tough behaviour on texts – and then all would be good again.

But, God dammit, did Derek look hot in that white, sleeveless shirt. And even a pair of grey sweatpants still didn't leave much to the imagination, for Christ' sake. Unbelievable. Literally, unbelievable.

"What's up?" Derek asked after Stiles had closed the sliding door to the loft.

Stiles shrugged. "Nothing much," he admitted, whilst taking a chance, "I just thought you were being weird on text, so I wondered if you were alright."

Derek crooked up an eyebrow. "So you say you thought I might be in trouble and actually care enough to come see me?" He snickered. "That's golden."

Blood rushed towards Stiles his cheeks. He really should've chosen his words more carefully. "No, I'm not saying I care. I just figured that _if _you were being tortured to death, I should be at least here to witness it." Nice, one, Stiles.

Derek shook his head, disapprovingly, before shrugging it off. "What do you want, Stiles?"

Stiles blinked at the older guy for a minute. "Honestly, I'm not sure."

The wolf looked uninterested from his place on the twin-sized bed, averting his gaze back to the TV in front of him. A can of beer was resting on his stomach, supported by his right hand and Stiles caught himself watching the up-and-down movement it made, in sync with Derek's breathing.

The teenager dropped his bag on the floor and sat down next to Derek, trying to ignore the tension between them. Small talk! Always helpful. "What're you watching?"

"Discovery Channel," Derek answered shortly, "An article about werewolves. It's quite funny, actually."

Stiles nodded, not really knowing what to respond to that. At this pace, he was going to be over Derek in approximately a year. It was time to get down to business.

"So, about the other night…"

"Hmm?"

"_Should_ we talk about it?"

"I don't know, should we?"

Stiles gritted his teeth while he let out an annoyed breath through his nose. Well, at least he could assume that Derek was the same in real life as he was with texting. "I asked you first," Stiles tried, hoping Derek would get his reference from their texting earlier.

"And I'm asking you now."

Apparently Derek didn't need to be reminded.

"I'm being serious, you ignorant sour wolf. Do you want to talk about it or not?" Stiles now asked with a little more irritation in his voice.

Derek yanked his head around to look at Stiles. "What is there to talk about?" he fired back, "Why don't you just tell me what you want?"

Stiles started chewing on his cheek again. "I want…I don't know, man. Alright? I just feel…y'know?"

Derek scoffed. "You feel _what_?"

And that reaction made Stiles' walls come back up again. "Never mind," he answered, "It was a mistake to come here."

He got up and walked over to his backpack, picking it up and swinging it over his shoulder. At the door, he waited for a second.

"I'm not gonna beg you to stay. If you want to leave, leave," Derek told him, eyes already glued to the TV screen again.

Stiles hesitated for a second. Frustration boiled up inside him, the kind when you had been outside and had gotten really cold, you know, when your hands were all red from being frozen and the only thing you wanted to do was to take a shower, but your fingers are so dead that you can't unbutton your pants, but you need to get them off, because you long for that hot water warming you back up again. That kind of frustration, the kind that makes you want to cry and throw things.

"Why not, though?" Stiles asked with a weird undertone, "Didn't what happened between us leave you with question marks?"

"It didn't," Derek answered briefly.

"Why not?"

"Because I've got myself figured out. And you apparently don't, which isn't my problem."

Somewhere, Stiles found himself hurt.

"Then…then what do you have figured out? Why can't I?" he asked, fragilely.

Derek shrugged his shoulders, not granting Stiles a single look.

Stiles' frowned at him, feeling his anger suddenly burst again like a balloon that had blown too much air in it. At least he had gotten what he had come for: Derek was definitely an asshole. He knew it for sure now. What kind of guy wouldn't help clearing stuff up after something like the other night had happened? He was just a fucking jerk. A guy who acted like he knew it all, while he actually didn't. He probably was scared as fuck but had too much pride to admit it and rather made Stiles feel like the whiney victim. Pathetic little shit.

He dropped his backpack to the floor again. "You know what, you bigheaded idiot?" he started his rant, "I think you're just one of those people who acts all superficial and like they know it all, but actually don't. You just feel embarrassed for me dominating you and finally being able to make you feel smaller than I am. Admit it. You felt vulnerable the other night and that's what you're trying to suppress. Well, you can go to hell for all I care."

Derek frowned deeply at Stiles, silently, as if he was waiting for the boy to be done.

"What?" Stiles continued, "Surprised that I've got you figured out?"

The wolf remained silent, staring intently at Stiles, which annoyed the teenager even more. "You're just gonna lay there and not say a word, aren't you? Well, have a fucking blast with that." He refused to look away from Derek's eyes, so instead continued glaring his dirty look. Derek licked his bottom lip and suddenly the atmosphere changed. Stiles didn't know if that particular motion had been to blame for it, but it still happened. The air around them thickened again and when Stiles felt himself grow, he realized he knew this feeling all too well. It was the same pressure he had felt the other night and God...he had to do everything in his power not to let himself go again.

But, Jesus Christ, Derek's human, green eyes were annoying the shit out of him. It wasn't just the colour, but the look in them. They showed…sympathy…God, did Derek feel _sorry_ for Stiles? That was just plain disturbing. God. It should be about time that Derek was going to have a share of the way he was and had been making Stiles feel. And Stiles didn't care about how he was going to accomplish that, so he walked up to the guy.

In front of the bed, he stared at Derek, examining him for a second before he concluded that the wolf _did _look good and he should be sorry for that. Well, maybe not sorry, but at least feel embarrassed. Not embarrassed for his looks, but the same kind of embarrassment Stiles had felt the other night. Not that Stiles had felt embarrassed at all. God, no. No, he just wanted to make Derek feel like _he _had done. Drag him into his pit of confusing feelings and make him suffer with him. Maybe then Derek wouldn't feel like he had himself all worked out and he would feel just like Stiles; cluttered and messy. And yup, there was only one way to do that.

Quick and sneaky as a fox, Stiles grabbed Derek's hand by the back of it. His knuckles felt rough and hard under the palm of his hand, but he tried to not be taken aback by that. Derek looked at him intently, but now his eyes showed some sense of…curiosity.

The tiniest of smirks grew around Stiles' lips when he grabbed Derek's hand a little tighter and moved it to his crotch. Stiles needed to switch the roles around, needed Derek to feel like he did. Maybe then, Stiles would become the strong one and Derek the stressed one. He just had to.

When Derek's hand had been placed on his own groin, both bodies froze for a second. Until Stiles' eyebrows upped suggestively at Derek, as if he was saying 'aren't you going to do anything?'.

A low breath came out of Derek's mouth when he slowly started to palm himself through his sweatpants. Stiles tried not to think about his own body. He was just going to stand there and stare at Derek, nothing more, nothing less. That had been the exact same position as where Derek had been the last time.

Derek didn't lose Stiles' gaze when he slid his thumbs under the elastic band of his sweats. He took his time sliding them down to only reveal half of his upper legs. Stiles was determined to continue to look back, but could still make out the bulge that was now showing in Derek's boxers. The teenager's mouth ran dry and his spine tickled a couple of times.

His knees were starting to weaken when he held his breath as the guy in front of him pulled down the last part of clothing that had been hiding his hard on. Stiles' felt himself throb against the zipper of his jeans, even through his boxers.

When Derek's cock and balls were all out, he fisted it and squeezed. His chest heaved up while his shoulder blades pushed him off the bed and in that moment Stiles seriously thought his knees were going to buckle over. But they didn't, luckily. He couldn't afford to lose himself right now, not when he had come so far.

Derek started stroking his cock and his throat started producing soft growls of pleasure. And Stiles wanted to look. He wanted to get an eyeful of Derek's hard dick, just to print screen and save for later. But he knew that if he would do that, he would blow everything. Derek hadn't looked at Stiles' cock after all, so if he would do it now, it would show desire; him _wanting_ Derek, which was exactly what he _didn't _want from this.

…Although…was Stiles a hundred percent sure that Derek hadn't 'looked' at him? At times Stiles had been so in the heat of the moment that he had had his eyes closed for a couple of times, so who said Derek hadn't sneaked a peek then?

But Stiles also wasn't a hundred percent sure that Derek _had_ 'looked' at him. Anyway, it didn't matter, because he wasn't going to downgrade himself again if by looking, whether Derek had or hadn't seen his.

On the other hand, there had always been a sort of silent pride about knowing what another guy's dick looked like.

No. No, he wasn't going to look. Because if Derek would notice him looking he would have given him the satisfaction of showing interest and the whole point wasn't to make Derek feel hot, it was supposed to humiliate him. Well, not in the total sense of the word…maybe more like, uncomfortable. But not right now. Derek shouldn't feel uncomfortable right now. No, he should feel uncomfortable afterwards. Yes, just like Stiles had done.

The, now louder, moan that sounded through the loft pulled Stiles out of his thoughts and back to reality, where Derek was lying on a bed, his arm vigorously going up and down, his sweatpants down his legs and his shirt a little upped , exposing only a part of his abdomen. He was grinding his teeth into his bottom lip and Stiles smirked at him. God, he almost wanted to whip it out himself and start wanking it, _almost. _He wasn't going to do that. He should stick to the plan.

After a while, a whiney undertone was added to Derek's moans and Stiles watched as his muscles seemed to bulge up even more. He knew the guy was probably going to cum soon. Stiles jaw had been slightly parted the whole time, but he had now noticed and quickly closed it. He had been gaping at Derek Hale. Ah, well, hopefully his eyes were still speaking some sort of dominance.

A grumble rumbled in Derek's chest and Stiles watched intently, not losing the wolf's gaze, as his body began to contract. Derek started making shocking movements on the bed and Stiles swore that he could've heard his cum shooting out through his slit, even with the noise of the TV on the background. It landed on his abdomen and his shirt and Derek was still looking right at him, his mouth open, front teeth showing a little.

And then the moment was over and Stiles just stood there. Derek had swift werewolf powers and could disappear without a sound, but Stiles couldn't. Stiles couldn't vanish into the air like Derek had done, so he just _stood_ there. He could grab his backpack and walk out, because, y'know, he had gotten where he had come for.

…Or…he could stay and make the torture much worse. He could act like nothing happened, like Derek had done, and just not say anything about it. The only difference then would be that Derek still had to suffer from Stiles' presence; even now the moment had gone. God, that sounded really good.

"I've got homework to do," he announced casually, turning around and walking over to his back. With his back to Derek, he smirked, because the wolf probably thought he was going to leave. But instead, Stiles got out his books and moved back over to the bed. "Are you good with Spanish? Because I'm not." He laid down next to Derek, their shoulders barely touching.

He could tell the wolf was blinking at him confusedly for a second, heard his still heavy breathing next to him, but then Derek's jaw locked and he sat up. Stiles watched him cheekily from corners of his eyes while he chewed on the end of his pen.

Derek didn't answer the question, but instead pulled up his sweats and took off his shirt. Stiles didn't need to see to know that he was cleaning himself up with it. Derek stood and got a clean shirt out of the drawers next to his bed and put it on. "No hablo Español," he grumbled after he had pulled the piece of clothing over his head.

"Sounds to me like you do," Stiles replied matter-of-factly.

Derek rolled his eyes and found his place on the bed again, grabbed the remote and started zapping through the channels. Stiles smirked when the guy didn't seem to be able to find anything interesting. It was a sign of discomfort to Stiles.

On the other hand, if Derek wanted him to leave, he would probably just tell him, so was he really that uncomfortable? Stiles sighed, concluding that with Derek he would most likely never know. He focused on his grammar homework, trying to find his peace.

"You wanna order pizza?" Derek asked an hour later.

"Only if you're paying," Stiles answered, grinning cleverly.

"Fine," the older one replied, "what do you want?"

Stiles thought for a minute. "Hawaii, but with extra cheese."

Derek nodded and dialled the number.

Apparently miracles do happen, because the rest of the evening the two spent watching TV and eating. Sure, it wasn't the same as when he would do it with Scott, but it was kinda nice, Stiles thought. He and Derek didn't really talk that much apart from some commenting on a random TV show, but then again Stiles hadn't expected them to be braiding each other's hair and having heart to hearts. Some sort of a continuous conversation would've been nice though and then at least he wouldn't feel so awkward and tense around him all the time.

Hours later, and much too late, Stiles woke up from someone nudging his shoulder and calling his name. He groaned and rubbed his eyes sleepily. "Whoa…?" he muttered, giving Derek a confused and annoyed look.

"Your phone's gone off like five times. Now pick it up or I'll smash it against a wall," Derek threatened, pressing the device into Stiles' chest.

The light hurt the teenager's eyes and he squinted them in a reflex. Five texts, nine missed calls. Who the hell was trying to reach him this eagerly?

But then he noticed the time.

"What?! It's after 1am?!" he exclaimed while he scrambled himself up, "Shit! Why didn't you say anything?"

Derek shrugged, unbothered.

Stiles shook his head and scrolled through his phone. "Dammit, Scott has texted me an hour and a half ago. Crap."

"So? Just text him back in the morning," Derek offered, not seeing the big deal.

"You don't understand, you big bad goofball," Stiles mumbled, yanking his backpack from the floor and getting up. "If I don't text Scott when he's going to sleep, he's going to think something's wrong, so now I didn't send anything and therefore need to go see him. God, unbelievable." He hated letting his best friend down like this.

"Can't you just call him?"

Stiles sighed. "No! Because he needs to see me to know for sure that I'm fine."

He then left without really saying goodbye to Derek, but he figured the wolf wouldn't mind. Also, that wasn't really his priority right now, because Scott was probably worrying himself sick. He hoped his best friend hadn't alarmed his dad yet.

His phone buzzed again and as he got into his jeep he looked at it. "Thank you, the universe!"

"Hey dad, I'm so sorry…yeah, yeah, I'm fine, I'm going over to Scott's now…yes, dad, I know, I'm sorry, okay? I was at a friend's and apparently fell asleep…yeah…yes, okay…I will…love you too, bye."

He knew being with Derek always meant trouble.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Don't forget to review!


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